The Sheep Tale
by Mystery of the Emblem
Summary: Stories were something his little brother and sister often asked for when Fernand returned home. He loves to oblige and decides to tell them a tale of his friend and sheep.


**Fernand mentions Clive trying to ride a sheep at one point. I've always wanted to write it, but I could never decide how. He mentions telling it to Malhilda, but I had also considered just writing the story out as it occurred. But I also love how he talks about his brother and sister, and so I decided to write him telling it to them. I'd given the names I use for Fernand's stepmother, brother, and sister to them in another fic.**

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Ever since he had been a child, Fernand had wanted to join the Knights of Zofia. It was one of the highest honors a young noble could attain, and he worked hard to reach that goal. His relationship with his father was fine, perhaps a bit closer than some of the other boys his age. His mother had passed when he was young, so Fernand and his father often leaned on each other.

Leaving him to join the brotherhood of knights would be hard, but his father had fully supported his dream.

His father had gone years without remarrying, so Fernand had not expected him to ever replace his mother. Eventually, he had met a young woman, and, nearly twelve years after his mother's passing, Fernand found himself with a stepmother. She was kind and sweet, but not _his_ mother, so the young man had held her at arm's length.

Shortly after their marriage, Jessalynn announced she was with child. Fernand, who had been an only child, had always envied those with little siblings, especially his friend, Clive. Though he and Clive had grown up together, and he loved him as a brother, he and his little sister Clair were simply not his siblings. It was hard for Clive, or anyone with a brother or sister, to understand how he had felt, being an only child.

Jessalynn's pregnancy gave him a little brother. It warmed his heart to have a brother, someone who could look up to him and relied on him. He was no longer an only child.

Soon after, Jessalynn had become pregnant again. Fernand worried for her, but her second pregnancy had been as easy as the first. The second one gave him a little sister, who immediately captured his heart.

As soon as the two of them were walking and talking, Fernand found himself close to changing his mind about becoming a Knight of Zofia. They were far too precious to him. It was only when he heard them talking about how their big brother would be a great knight that he realized they, too, encouraged him, in ways only little ones could.

Leaving them had proven to be harder than he thought leaving just his father would be, but their bright eyes and smiling faces made returns home so much more pleasant. When they heard he was coming home, they would count down the days, according to their mother. The morning of his arrival began with them waiting at one of the windows downstairs until they saw him ride up on his horse. As soon as he entered their home, he would be greeted by the two of them launching themselves at him at full force, one on each of his legs. They nearly knocked him off balance in their excitement, but he never minded.

He had received that greeting on his most recent trip home. Their mother had scolded them for almost knocking him over, but he had laughed and picked them both up. They missed him as much as he missed them.

In the series of questions they had asked, each one right after another and impossible to answer in order, his little sister had asked if they could please have a picnic. He agreed, as he found himself unable to tell Emily no.

That was how Fernand found himself stretched out on a blanket under the shade of several trees, his little sister curled up next to them and his little brother climbing on the lower branches of one of the trees. The remnants of their meal sat in the picnic basket his stepmother had packed for them. Between the ride, the full meal, the cool of the shade and the faint breeze that stirred, Fernand found himself close to falling asleep.

He had almost nodded off when he heard his little brother's voice. "Fernand, will you tell us a story?"

"What sort of story?" he murmured.

"Any kind! You have _a lot_ of stories!"

A little reluctant to give up his nap, Fernand sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position. Beau had perched himself on one of the lower branches and kicked his legs back and forth. He was pleased with himself, having climbed into the tree without Fernand's assistance. He was what most little boys his age were: adventurous with little care. He preferred tree climbing and splashing in streams, chasing bugs and lizards, and getting into all sort of mischief.

His little sister had sat up, too, but she had remained at his side. Emily was more of a proper little lady, not one to climb or run, always mindful of her small gowns, and usually well behaved. She still held tightly to a stuffed bunny, one that was a gift shortly after she was born. The yellow toy went everywhere with her. At the moment, it sat on her lap as she looked up at Fernand expectantly.

"Do you want a story, too?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

"Very well." What sort of story could he pick? Beau loved to hear about the battles the knights fought and the troublemakers they ran off. Emily would listen to them as well, but he worried about scaring her with them. Then a memory came to his mind and he smiled. It would be enough of a story to satisfy them both.

"Do you two remember my friend, Clive? I believe I've mentioned him before." When his little siblings agreed they remembered hearing about Clive, Fernand continued. "One evening, he and I were out. It was a night to ourselves, we were not on guard duty."

Beau was disappointed. He was hoping for a story about Fernand's duty as a knight.

"It was a quiet night, not many people were on the streets. Most were inside, abed, or, ah..." How should he word it? The children were far too young to understand a tavern. Should he say having a drink with friends? They had seen their father share a drink with some of his friends. Yes, he would go with that. "With friends, sharing drinks and stories."

He would also not mention that he and Clive had also had a drink or two. They were not stumbling drunk, nor were they always at taverns. It had been the first time in months that they had visited the tavern. They had gone for a meal, tired of mess hall food, and had a couple of drinks in the process.

"Neither of us wanted to return to the barracks so soon," Fernand continued. "It was a nice night, and somewhat early. We decided to take a longer path back, one that would keep us out a little later." He felt a faint pressure against his stomach and looked down. Emily had leaning her head on his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. He ruffled her soft, grey hair and continued.

"We had just reached the outskirts of the village, finally ready to go back after an evening of doing very little, when we happened across a farm. Clive stopped in the middle of the road and studied it for a minute or two. The farmhouse was dark, either no one was home or they were all asleep. There was a pen around back, and from that pen we could hear the occasional baaing of a sheep."

For a less adventurous tale, Fernand realized he still had his brother and sister's complete attention.

"When Clive started across the farm, I knew it meant trouble. I tried to stop him, but he said no one would see us. I asked him just what he had in mind." His language that night had been rather _colorful._ He did not want to be chased by an angry farmer, but neither could he leave Clive to do whatever it was he had planned.

"He didn't eat the sheep, did he?"

"No," Fernand assured his sister with a soft chuckle. "He was going to do something he had wanted to do for some time. He had the mind to ride one."

"But you don't ride sheep!" Beau countered from his perch in the tree. "You ride _horses."_

"That's what I tried to tell him. He insisted he wanted to try it since he was a boy. I reminded him when he was a boy, he was much smaller. 'Horses and sheep aren't too different,' he told me. I wanted to argue they were _very_ different, but it is difficult to argue with someone when you're barely speaking above a whisper."

"Did the farmer hear you?"

"No, thank the gods. I followed him to the sheep pen. It was larger than we thought, with over two dozen sheep inside. Some were asleep and others were just bleating at each other. He unlatched the gate and I sat down to watch. I thought he would try, fail, and we'd go on our way. Sometimes, it is best to let someone try something once, otherwise they might never let go of the idea."

Fernand remembered that night very well. It was a hot summer's night, with no breeze and no clouds. He had sat down on a stump to watch Clive's little adventure unfold. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and shook his head at the absolutely foolish behavior Clive displayed.

"Clive somehow managed to find the largest sheep I had ever seen in my life," Fernand told his siblings. That sentence managed to get giggles from the both of them. "I thought he was going to pull it off for a moment. The sheep was the size of a small horse! The sheep wanted no part of Clive's idea. For all his sweet talking to the sheep, it just bleated at him and ran off whenever he approached. I tried to tell Clive to stop. He was making so much noise and rousing the other sheep. I don't believe he closed the gate behind him. If he did, it was either not properly closed or the sheep were just that distraught. The next thing I knew, the pen was wide open and sheep were streaming past me!"

Another chorus of giggles came from his brother and sister. Even Fernand chuckled at the memory.

"What did you do?" Beau asked.

"The only thing I could think to do: laugh." Fernand had leaned so forward his face was almost at his knees. His shoulders had shook in silent laughter. He sat that way for a little while, all the time with Clive yelling at him to help him catch the sheep before someone caught _them._ When he finally composed himself and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, he had sat up and found himself facing a small lamb.

"That little lamb," he told them," was the only one I put back in the pen."

"Why?"

"There were two reasons. It was the only one that had not bolted down the road, and as I told Clive, _I_ was not the one who had set the sheep loose in the first place."

"Did Clive catch any more?"

"He tried. It was dark, remember, and the sheep ran off in every direction. Less than ten had stayed near the farm, and whenever Clive would approach them to catch them, they would run away. Eventually, Clive gave up and told me we would leave as no one had spotted us on the farm. The farmhouse had remained quiet. The next morning, we learned the farmer had been in the village that night. I have often found myself wondering which was the bigger surprise for him, finding his sheep running through the village, or finding the pen shut with just one small lamb still in there."

After another wave of laughter, Emily asked, "Did you get in trouble?"

Fernand shook his head. "No one knew we were there. It was all everyone spoke of for several days. What kind of person would set every sheep free, except one? Clive and I were even asked what we thought of it. I looked directly at Clive with the most sincere expression I could, and said, 'Ruffians. Who else would set some poor farmer's sheep loose?' and Clive agreed. That was the story we stuck to." He chuckled and added, "Farmers spent nights guarding their livestock for weeks later. It was so strange to the villagers. There were no other attacks on anyone's livestock. Eventually, they just let the issue go."

Fernand stretched, his body growing stiff from having sat so long. He thought the silly misadventures of Clive would be enough to satisfy their want of a story. He was still looking forward to taking a nap. When he suggested they return home, Beau and Emily protested. "Can you please tell us another story?" they begged in unison.

He thought of telling them no, but then he had a better idea. "How about we nap first, and then I tell you another?"

"But I'm not tired!"

Fernand laughed as he stood and plucked his brother from the tree. "I am," he told him. "The two of you do not have to nap if you don't want to. When I wake up, I can tell you all of the stories you want."

He put Beau on the ground then helped Emily to her feet. He folded the blanket they had eaten their picnic on, shut the lid of the picnic basket, and placed the folded blanket on top of it. He carried everything back, followed closely by his brother and sister. They would allow his nap, of that he was sure, but they were not only excited to see him, but also thrilled at the thought of more of his stories. If he spent the rest of his trip home just telling them tales and hearing them laugh, that would be fine with him.


End file.
